


Becoming Green

by Amatia (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Gen, Other, Plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-15
Updated: 2010-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-10 14:03:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Amatia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville spends his summer holidays with a Phileus Avendetra. Slightly Neville/plant-ish. After OotP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Becoming Green

The Oceanwave Fern in Greenhouse Six was as tall as he was, with a thick, waxy-looking center stem and what seemed to be hundreds of frilly greenish-blue leaves curling out of the thinner branches. Professor Sprout assured him it wasn't toxic, and that Phileus Avendetra was a fairly common houseplant in warmer climates. Here in Scotland, it was quite rare. Neville was thrilled when she gave him a cutting to take home over the summer holidays.

In a bowl of water in a bright window, the root system exploded almost overnight. Neville woke up three days after getting home to see the tiny turquoise roots wriggling slightly and hanging over the edge of the bowl. Professor Sprout's directions indicated that now was the time to pot the fern, so after he'd dressed (in quite a hurry), Neville carefully carried the bowl outside, along with the sack of potting mix Professor Sprout had sent with the cutting.

Gran provided a large stoneware urn and a spot for it in the sunroom. Neville spread a thin layer of bezor gravel at the bottom of the urn, and then poured in the dirt until it was three-quarters full. He used his hands to make a shallow dip, and gently set the small plant inside. Then he mixed a trowelful of dragon dung with a little more soil and sprinked it around until the roots were covered. He topped it all off with a layer of green moss. The tiny leaves seemed to wave at him as he used the small watering can to give it a drink. Neville smiled down at it. "I think I'll call you Detra," he said firmly, and the fern wiggled in what he thought was a gesture of happiness.

*

Within a week, Detra had grown a full four centimeters (if his measurements were correct). Gran came down to sit and read while he watered the fern and the rest of the other sunroom plants. "It's a handsome looking plant," she said approvingly. "Merlin knows the rest of the things here could benefit from having a person with such a green thumb around! I'll leave them in your care the rest of the summer, Neville."

Neville felt himself turn pink with pleasure. "I do enjoy it," he replied. "Herbology is my best class."

"Excellent to hear," Gran said with a decisive nod. "Not many Wizards have the right temperament to grow some of the more difficult plants required for some very sought-after potions."

He felt himself flush again. It was nice to hear her say something positive about his future for once. Something tickled his hand, and he looked down. Detra had curled two of her feathery leaves around his finger. The rest of her was waving at him, and he smiled at her and did not move away.

*

He took to doing his readings out in the sunroom, surrounded by the greenery. Sometimes Gran joined him with her tea, but she greatly preferred the cool interior of the house, so it was usually just Neville and the plants. He placed his chair next to the fern and spent his afternoons reading up on careers in Herbology and trying to understand some of the potions units he'd failed horribly at during the year. He enjoyed reading about potions a lot more than brewing them, and even more so when he was comfortably at home, and not being watched by Professor Snape.

He glanced up at Detra. She curled all her leaves so that they seemed to face him. "I like that you know when I'm nearby," he whispered to her. "And you're much better company than greasy old Snape."

She shook her main stem just a little. Neville took this as a gesture of agreement and reached out to let his fingers sweep over her leaves while he read.

*

He owled Professor Sprout a month into vacation, gripped by a sudden panic that he'd have to give Detra over to her care once the term started. Her reply came almost immediately. "Oh, no! The Avendetra is all yours, Mr. Longbottom; I know you'll take lovely care of it. I see you've already discovered that they enjoy human company and touch. The more time you spend with them, the more it seems they bond with us. They are truly companionable plants. And mind you give yours a bit of plimpy fertilizer every now and again!"

Neville immediately sought his grandmother's approval and sent for a bottle, and when it arrived, carefully mixed a single drop with a pint of water. Detra's leaves wiggled even faster than normal as he poured it over the moss, and for a split second he was afraid he was killing her, but then she relaxed and waved in the direction of his face. Neville took a breath and leaned in, so that his nose touched her main stem. Her leaves fluttered over his face, and he grinned.

*

The next week, she sprouted tendrils. The book he was reading had warned him, but he was still a bit surprised to see them suddenly appear overnight. And excited, for a frission of joy shot through him when the tendrils unfurled in front of his eyes. "Oh, sweetie!" he whispered before he realized what he was saying. "You are bloody beautiful." And then he laughed at his own oddness and held out his hand. A tendril curled gently around his forefinger, and he figured she was probably laughing with him.

*

The rest of the plants thrived under his care, but none of them seemed to show any sort of emotion towards him. Neville decided that this was for the best on the day he had to harvest the beans from the Puffapod for Gran and Detra turned all her leaves away from him. He had to struggle not to rush through the harvesting, as he really didn't want to drop any beans and find new Puffapods spouting up through the floor covering and incur Gran's wrath, but his mind just didn't want to focus on his task. When he'd finally finished, he rushed over next to the fern. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "But you know I promised Gran I'd take care of everyone else out here. I can't ignore them all just for you. Even though I would, in a heartbeat."

Detra stretched a tendril out, curled it around his ear, and pulled it back - bringing Neville with it. Neville giggled nervously as another tendril dipped shallowly into his ear, and her leaves brushed softly across his eyelids. "I'm sorry if you're mad at me," he murmured. "I like you best of all, you know."

Detra pushed a tendril against his lips. Neville opened his mouth. The tendril touched his tongue, lightly, before curling itself all the way back to the main stem. Neville swallowed. She tasted like sunshine felt.

He pulled away and ran up to his room, and threw himself on the bed, breathing heavily. Should he write to Professor Sprout about this? The thought made his face burn. It was obvious to Neville that her opinion would be that he was growing much too attached to the fern, and in very unprofessional ways.

He decided it was best not to write.

*

Neville avoided the sunroom for a whole day before he couldn't stand it anymore. He mixed a drop of the plimpie fertilizer with water and took it out to Detra. She was all curled up, her leaves and tendrils all pressing inward against her main stem. "It's really not right," he murmured to her as he poured the water out over the moss. "I mean, don't you think it's a bit strange?"

A single leaf angled toward him. He sat back on his heels and looked at it. It was as though she were staring at him. "It is a bit odd," he continued. "I'm finding myself quite... attached to you."

All of her leaves shimmied, but her tendrils remained tightly curled.

"But there was something in one of the books I read," Neville found himself saying. "About Poliferus Paterlium. A mouthful of a name, I know. He seemed to have quite the... attachment to several of his Avendetras. More than one! Can you believe it?"

One tendril unrolled and waved back and forth in a large arc, as though she could not believe that Mr. Poliferus Paterlium had time for more than one Phileus Avendetra. Neville smiled. "So can you forgive me?" he whispered, leaning close.

Detra replied by stroking her tendril from his forehead to his chin.

*

"I don't know quite what we'll do when fall term starts," he said to her several weeks later. She'd reached the same height as the fern she'd been cut from, and one of her tendrils was wrapped around several of his fingers. "There's not nearly enough light for you in the dormitory."

All of her leaves stood straight up. Neville took this to mean she was not pleased at this information. "Professor Sprout says she'd love to have you in Greenhouse Four, and she promises not to let any of the mean students touch you."

She didn't move. "I promise to come every day and see you," he said. She still didn't move. "And I promise not to take any cuttings."

Her leaves relaxed, and the tendril holding his fingers squeezed a little tighter. Another of her tendrils indicated the very top of her stem. Neville leaned close. There was a small bump that he hadn't noticed yesterday. "Are you hurt?" he cried, his heart pounding.

Her leaves wiggled, a tendril stroked his cheek. Slowly, the bump split, and he gasped. A single, tiny yellow flower on the end of a very pale stem spiralled up to tap the tip of his nose. Neville broke into a smile. The book said that Avendetras only flowered when they were extremely happy and comfortable, and for some Avendetras, that never occurred.

"It's lovely," he murmured to her. "You're gorgeous." He took a breath. "I love you."

All of her leaves shimmied, and all of her tendrils reached out to touch him. The flower rose up higher, and grew bigger in front of his eyes. The tendril in his ear was tickling, but Neville didn't care.


End file.
